Random Cucumber

When I got out of the car near the theatre last night, there was this cucumber, lying in the gutter.

You could tell it had once been a fine specimen of a cucumber. Large and sleek. Dark green, waxy skin. Now it was punctured and scarred, a mockery of its former splendor.

What drives a well-bred cucumber to this sorry state? I don’t know. I gave it a wide berth as I passed by, then stopped, reconsidered and got out my camera. I retraced my steps, raised the camera and clicked the shutter. The cucumber remained insensible.

I thought about lifting it onto the curb, but I didn’t. In its helpless state, it probably would have been kicked and stomped by some hoodlum passing by. So I left it where it lay. When it woke, would it be ashamed? Would it have appreciated my helping hand?

Somehow, I don’t think so. After all, if a cucumber is going to change, it has to want to change.

From waxy and glossyTo punctured and scarryAbandoned and lonelyOneA cuke can be lovelyAnd yummy in saladBut if you drop it and runA cuke is forlorn-lyA pitiful treat when it lies in the streetA cuuuu-uuuke….In the niiiiiiiight….